YES! The South Park Twlight Spinoff Part 1
by Sly Mysteria
Summary: About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Kyle was a Jew. Second, there was a part of him-and I didn't know how dominant that part might be-that thirsted for my bod. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.


_-'I know what you are.'_

_-'Say it. Say it out loud.'_

_-'Jew.'_

_-'Are you scared?'_

_-'No.' _

Chapter 1: First Sight

It hadn't been the long back-breaking flight from the sandy Californian shores to the cold Colorado mountains that made Stan Marsh feel alienated. It hadn't even been the sight of his mother escorting him to the airport in her new boyfriend's model car.

It had been the sight of his father standing in the spray of frozen mist with his arms folded across his chest. Randy Marsh, Park County Sheriff still draped in his dark blue uniform, probably off from work to collect him.

-'Stanley!' His father said, waving to him from the distance. Stan dragged his bags, his ball and chain, towards the parking space. –'Hey, Stan.'

-'Hi dad.'

Dad. _Must remember not to call him Randy to his face._

Randy's house was a two-storey built-in-garage lot with a roomy fenced front yard. Looking at it now, it seemed to have shrunk considerably now that Stan was older. His room was still on the top floor, overlooking the empty snow-covered street.

Randy unlocked the front door and let him in. The rooms had a stale smell about them, something stuck between negligence and uncertainity.

-'Welcome to your new home, son.' Randy said through a slanted smile. –'You're going like South Park. It grows on you.'

-'Yeah.'

Stan's bedroom was just they was he left it all those summers ago, the exception making a neat stack of cardboard boxes in the far-flung corner. He had a double bed, draped in a cold quilt and a darkened window with the blinds pulled down halfway.

Stan sat on the edge of his new bed, staring at his ashen reflection in the mirror for a couple of minutes. It seemed as if he had been in a body of a stranger.

-'I enrolled you for classes, Stan. You think you can go take a looksee?'

-'Sure. Thanks, dad.'

Stan went downstairs feeling hungry. The kitchen cupboards were cleared out except for three different brands of pasta and some cottage cheese and milk in the refridgerator. Randy sat by the kitchen table, flipping through a day old newspaper.

-'I'll make dinner.' Stan said.

-'Don't worry about that now. We'll order something.'

-'Okay.' He replied, twisting a chair so he could sit on it. He made a cordial gesture, staring out the window into the mountains. –'So tell me about this new school.'

It had been his first day in a new environment. It was okay to feel awkward on your first day of new school, meeting the new class, gaining new friends and enemies.

Stan made it across the parking lot, locking the shabby red truck Randy gave him as a welcome gift.

-'Wow, neat. Thanks, dad.'

-'Don't mention it. I got it cheap from a friend of mine.' Randy said, leaning against the passenger's seat. –'You remember the Cartmans?'

-'I don't think so.' Stan said, lifting an eyebrow.

Randy pointed a finger at the mountains. –'Old Cartman and his son Eric. You used to play with Eric when you two were only in diapers.'

-'Oh.' Stan said, the remembrance still hazy.

The old truck fidgeted under the weight of the driver's seat and Stan exited, slamming the door so the rusty lock would take.

He made it across the parking lot followed by vigilant glares of other students. He passed a silver Volvo on his way. It had been the single most beautiful car he had seen, among the crowd of second-hand and cheap transportations. He almost slid a hand across the sparking hood but changed his mind.

That would have been definitely awkward.

His first class of the day was Trigonometry. He followed the majority into the main building and took a seat at the far back of the classroom. Students entered, granting him curious looks. He kept his head down, opening a textbook.

-'Okay, children. We have a new student present.' Mr Garrison, the school professor said upon entering. He slid his coat and hung on the coat racks.

-'Stanley, why don't you stand up and tell us something about yourself.'

Stan reluctantly obeyed. He stood up slowly, looking around at the open faces.

-'Um, hi. My name is Stanley Marsh. Everybody calls me Stan.'

-'Class, say hello to Stan.'

-'Hello Stan.' The class replied in a monotone fashion.

The weather for the rest of the day was dark and damp. Snow had fallen some more and placed a new pearly white sheet across rooftops and cars.

When it was lunch time, Stan walked into the cafeteria all by himself. He stood at the double doors, watching for a place to sit.

Then he saw him. He was sitting down with his friends, falling silent in a bravado conversation, listening to his friends meekly. His eyes were cool and his expression was unreadable. And he looked up and their eyes locked. Stan drew his head away.

-'Stan, hey Stan!' A voice called. It had been a few students from his other classes, seated around a table in the center. A blonde kid waved for him to come.

Stan stepped in front of them. The blonde kid grinned widely. –'Well come on sit down with us. Get a tray and join us, buddy.'

-'Yeah, thanks.'

Sitting down, he peeked at the other table. The boy had a serene expression. He was lean, dressed in an orange coat and a green mudflap hat. He adjusted his eyes so he could take a look at who was sitting at his table. Four other kids, all with the same coat of mysteria around them, all seeming alienated from the rest of school. All outcasts, like he was.

-'Hey Stan.' The blonde called. –'I heard you were from California.'

-'Yes.' He replied quietly.

-'That's neat. Hey do you wanna hang out with us? We could show you around.'

-'That would be great, thanks.'

-'Well my name's Butters and this is Token, Bebe and Kenny.' He pointed at the last kid, an orange parka cocooning his face.

-'Hi.' Stan said. He tilted his head towards the other table. –'Who are they?'

-'Them?' Butters said, twisting his head. –'They're the Broflovskis.'

-'The Broflovskis. Are they all brothers and sisters?'

-'They're adopted. Dr Broflovski and his wife are taking care of them. But you don't wanna hang around with them.'

-'Why not?'

-'They keep to themselves mostly.'

-'How come?'

-'They're different then us.' Butters said, sucking on a juice box. –'That's their leader, Kyle.'

-'All the girls like Kyle.' Bebe said, squinting shyly.

The bell rang. Students collected their trays and left for classes. Kenny patted Stan on the back, but Stan sat there a moment longer staring at the Broflovskis. He sunk his teeth into an apple, the only thing he had eaten since this morning.

Kyle lifted his eyes. They were snake green and reduced to omnious slits. Stan chewed on the apple, the juice trailing down his lower lip.

Due to their staring competition, Stan was late for Religion Studies. He walked in with his head down, taking the first free seat. To his surprise Kyle Broflovski folded his books and looked away, sitting inches away.

-'You will work in pairs, recognizing different aspects of world religions. Row A you have Islam, row B Christianity and row C you get Judaism. Get going. I will show you some slides and you will have to recognize whether this is your assigned religion.'

Mrs Chokesondick shifted the slides with an oval remote controller. The room was bathed in bare darkness, the only light coming from the projector.

Stan sensed Kyle moving closer to him. He stifled his breaths and looked away. Kyle let out a crooked grin. –'Mmm, I think that's Christanity.' He said. His voice was dry and cool, not unlike the squeaking voices these kids around him owned up to.

-'What do you think?' He asked suddenly.

Stan looked at him. –'I-I think you're right.'

-'Yes.' Kyle mused. –'I think that's right, too. What about slide two?'

-'Islam. Has to be.'

-'Yes. It is.' He said queitly, so only Stan could hear. He extended a hand across the table. –'My name is Kyle Broflovski.'

-'Stan Marsh.'

-'I know who you are.' Kyle said.

-'You do?'

-'Yes. You're the new kid everybody's been talking about. I find you...intriguing.'

Stan swallowed with hardship. –'You do?'

-'Hm. You have sad eyes, Stan.' Kyle said, leaning over so Stan could feel his breath cascading down the back of his neck. –'I couldn't imagine anybody causing hurt to those eyes.'

Stan's skin shivered, it crawled with a thousand beetle skitters.

When class was dismissed, Stan hurried out to get to the parking lot. When he was out, the cold once again brozght him to his knees. He ruffled his thick black scarf and hurried into his truck. The silver Volvo was long since gone.

That evening, when he got to Randy's house, the Cartmans and his father stood chatting cordially against the frosted windows. Old Cartman and his son Eric.

-'Evening, Stan. Remember Eric there?' Old Cartman said.

His son was a thick-around-the-waist kid with grey eyes and dark brown hair. He had a lot of pride and arrongance in his eyes and he gave Stan a scornful look. Stan peered at him, leaning forth to shake his hand reluctantly. Cartman had a tight grasp and he almost crushed his fist bones.

-'Nice to see you again. Eric.'

-'Same goes for you, Stan.' Eric Cartman said in pretense. –'How's South Park treating you, kid?'

-'Okay, I guess.'

-'Stan did you meet any new friends at school today?' Randy asked, embracing Stan around the shoulders.

-'I met some okay guys and this one kid, Kyle Broflovski. He seemed cool.'

The three of them gave Stan a cold stare. Stan frowned lightly.

-'What?'

Randy shook his head. –'No, nothing. I'm happy you had a swell time.'

-'Yeah.' Old Cartman said eventually. –'So how's my old truck treating you?'

-'Alright. It's a bit funny with the gears.'

-'You only need one in South Park.' Old Cartman winked. It punchline went through Stan far too quickly.


End file.
